


Say you'll never leave me

by Poetic_Disaster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Grinding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Underage - Freeform, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, first time fic, partial penetration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 04:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8608501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetic_Disaster/pseuds/Poetic_Disaster
Summary: It's the first time Dean gets badly injured on a hunt and Sam comes to terms with the fact that he's in love with his brother.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is fourteen*

Sam’s been watching the same infomercial for the last hour and a half, eyes red and burning from the tears that are starting to gather there but he uses the corner of his sleeve to angrily wipe them away before they have the chance to fall and clicks the tv off, bathing the cheap motel room in darkness. 

There’s an aching worry in his chest and a knot in his throat. The alarm clock reads one in the morning, they should have been back by now and Sam’s quickly losing his wits. He hears the familiar rumble of the impala seconds before he sees the headlights flash bright, breaking through the blinds and he jumps to his feet and throws open the motel door. 

The panic that he’d been somewhat successful at supressing now bubbles forth at the sight of Dean, slumped forward against john, his pants completely covered in blood and he rushes to his brother’s side 

“Heya Sammy.” Dean says as he tries to smile at his brother but then sucks in a sharp breath at the stabbing pain that shoots through his body. 

“Help me get your brother inside.” His father commands but Sam can’t seem to tear his eyes away. 

“What happened?” He asks but doesnt give John time to answer. “You were supposed to protect him!” He yells out, not caring if anyone can hear them. 

“Not now boy.” John commands . “Help me get your brother inside so I can tend to his wounds. He’s already lost quite a bit of blood.”

The words hit Sam like a freight train and he pushes past the anger and shoulders most of Dean’s weight as he helps his dad carry his brother inside and lay him on the bed. 

He hurries himself getting hot water and fresh towels before coming back to Dean’s side. Watches as his dad uses the scissors to cut up the entire length of Dean’s jeans and pulls back the material to reveal an angry set of gashes that are still bleeding profusely. His hands are shaking as he rings a washcloth out and tries to wipe up the blood that’s running down his brother’s thigh as their father gets to work suturing up his wounds. 

He’s not sure how much time goes by but every second feels like an eternity. Dean’s out cold, either from the pain or the medicine, and Sam hopes it’s the latter. 

  
Dad’s no comfort, drinks himself stupid with a bottle of Johnny walker black and passes out in the other bed leaving Sam alone with his grief. He gently crawls into bed with his brother, easy not to jostle him, and tries to focus on anything but how completely useless he feels.  


  
His pillow is wet with tears and he tries to quiet the sobs that are escaping from his chest but they’re violent and they threaten to break Sam apart from the inside out. 

“Sammy,” He hears his brother whisper weakly against his back. A warm hand cards through his hair and he squeezes his eyes closed and takes a deep breath. 

“Sammy, it’s okay.. I’m okay little brother.” He tries to soothe but it just makes the tears come harder. 

“Look at me,” Dean says. “I’m fine Sam. Look at me.” And he turns around and buries his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. 

He holds Sam close as he cries, hand gently rubbing his back, both calming and stirring the desperation he feels. 

“Figures,” Sam says as he wipes at his tired eyes. “That you’re the one who’s hurt and you’re trying to comfort me… I’m a horrible brother.” 

“No you’re not Sam.” Dean whispers against sams cheek. “Don’t say that. Besides, I’m fine. Just a scratch.” 

He raises his head up, finally looking into those moss-green eyes and sighs. 

“I was so scared.” He admits. “It’s just- I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.” 

“Hey,” Dean smiles. “You’re never gonna loose me. You’re stuck with me for life.” He adds and Sam smiles back… I love you, he thinks. “I hope so.” he says instead. 

Morning brings with it a false sense of calm that’s shattered the moment he opens his eyes and looks at Dean. His face is littered with at least a dozen cratches, some more prominent than others, and his lip is busted open. There’s a quarter size bruise under his right eye and it takes him a minute to push down the urge to cry again. He grabs some chapstick from the night stand and gently applies some to his brother’s lips, careful not to hurt him. Dean opens his eyes and smiles.

“Is it time for my sponge bath Samantha?” Dean teases, eyebrows wiggling suggestively. 

“Shut up jerk.” Sam says back without any real heat but can’t help the blush that colors his cheeks. 

“Make me bitch.” His brother quips. 

“Alright you two,” comes a familiar bark as the motel door opens. 

“I’ve made arrangments for you both to stay at Bobby’s while he and I wrap this hunt up. I don’t like leaving it un-finished.” 

“But dad,” Sam interrupts. “Dean’s hurt, he’s in no shape to travel.” 

John runs a calloused hand down his face and sighs. He doesn’t want another fight with his youngest. “You think I don’t know that Sam? I do, but cash is low and I can’t leave you two here. I’ve no other option but to take you to Bobby’s. So, get your gear together, we leave in twenty.”

A million things he’d like say come pouring into his head but every. single.one. dies on his lips when Dean squeezes his hand softly; a silent plea to just let it go. He drops his head and grabs his bag, a quiet “ yes sir” leaving his burning tongue. 

  
The ride to Souix falls is just as bad as he thought it would be. Dean’s in the back so he can stretch out his injured leg so that puts Sam up front with his dad. Great. 

Two and a half hours later they finally arrive. Sam hops out and rushes to dean’s side, carefully helping him out of the impala, ignoring all of John’s efforts to help, and slowly makes their way inside the house where he deposits Dean comfortably on Bobby’s couch. 

Bobby claps John on the back and asks if he wants a drink and as a suprise to everyone, himself included, he turns it down. 

“Just wanna go ahead and get on the road.” He says, back turned to the boys and lowers his voice. “Besides, I got a feeling that boy is probably thinking up ways to murder me in my sleep.” He says and motions his eyes to where Sam is sitting at the foot of the couch, Dean’s injured leg propped up on his lap. Bobby laughs, but John’s half serious. John runs his hand across the back of his neck. 

“I wish I was kidding Bobby. You should’ve seen the looks that boy gave me everytime I hit a bump or took a turn.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous John” Bobby says, turning around ignoring him completely. 

“Boys, there’s fresh sheets on the spare bed upstairs or you can just let the couch out if you’d rather. Also, the fridge is full, help yourself… Oh, and Sam.” He says at he stops in the door way. “I just got a new book on Celtic tree magic. If you find time, you should check it out. It’s an interesting read.”

“Thanks uncle Bobby.” They both say in unison as the door shuts leaving them in the only house that’s ever been close to being theirs. 

  
Dean naps on and off most of the day which leaves Sam with way too much time on his hands. He aimlessly walks the halls, skims through the book Bobby recommended and scours his library for anything else that might peak his interest. He finds it hard to concentrate though, constantly listening for any signs that his brother might require his assistance. He’s hovering, he knows, but he can’t help it. He wishes there was more he could do for Dean. Wishes that it would have been him instead. But mostly he just wishes his dad would stop putting the job before them and that their life didn’t have to be so fucked up. 

At four thirty Sam sighs and makes his way to the kitchen to prepare some food for them while Dean flips through the channels on the tv. A small oven fire and three episodes of Mash later and the spaghetti and garlic bread is done. 

They eat in silence, enjoying a home-cooked meal for once and afterwards Sam cleans Dean up and changes his bandages. 

“Well?” Dean asks. “How bad does it look?” 

It’s not nearly as awful as Sam thought it was gonna be and it’s definitely not as panic induing as it was watching their father sew him up but looking at it still makes his chest ache.

“It’s healing nicely.” Sam says trying to keep all emotion out of his voice but Dean can always tell when Sam’s holding something back.

“Then why do you like you’re about to cry Sam? ” Dean asks suddenly sounding as hysterical as Sam feels. “Am I gonna lose my freaking leg?” 

“No.” He half laughs, shaking his head. “It’s just been an incredibly emotional couple of days and these,” he says looking down at the angry red gashes, “are a painfully vivid reminder of how close I came to losing you.”

Dean looks at him with something unreadable in his eyes and squeezes his hand.

“I meant what I said Sammy. You’re not gonna lose me.” 

“You can’t promise that Dean.” He says suddenly sounding so much older than just fourteen. 

“You and me against the world little brother.” He promises.

“Always.” Sam says on cue and re-bandages his leg in silence. 

  
Later, when he’s done washing up the dishes and the small disaster he left from eariler, he makes his way back into the living room to check on Dean.

He’s all stretched out, his right leg propped up on a stack of pillows, face scrunched up in sleep, head lax and layed back against the arm of the couch and Sam is overwhelmed with how damn beautiful he is in this unguarded moment. He walks back through the hallway to the bathroom and gets two white pain pills out of the medicine cabinet and brings them to Dean. Tips the cup gently towards his brother’s face, encouraging him to swallow them down. 

“You take such good care of me Sammy.” Dean says, eyes shinning bright as he stares up at his brother, still half asleep. Sam smiles back and wipes a drop of juice off Dean’s chin. 

“You ready for bed?” He asks suddenly nervous about the prospect of trying to get Dean upstairs. 

“Yeah, but let’s just stay here.” He says patting the couch underneath him. 

“Well, let me pull the bed out Sam insist but Dean’s having none of it. He reaches forward, hands wrapping around Sam and tries to pull him down on top of him. 

He’s got the annoyed little brother routine down pat but if he’s being honest, with himself at least, he wants nothing more than to fall down into the embrace and live in that warm cocoon of Dean’s arms wrapped around him.

“I think you’ve had too many pills.” He laughs and gently moves Dean to the chair while he unfolds the bed and gets it ready. 

They lay there listening to the storm that blew through about an hour ago. The October wind, howling past the window, but Sam can’t seem to care from his current position curled up against Deans chest. 

It’s a peacful moment as they both drift off to sleep to the sound of each other’s steady breaths. 

  
At some point in the early hours of morning Sam’s eyes flutter open on a sigh, toes brushing Dean’s foot as he rocks his hips slightly foward before he comes to enough to realize what he’s doing.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly says and goes to pull away from his brother but Dean gently grabs his arm and pulls him back close. 

“ It’s okay,” Dean says and for a minute Sam’s brain, still hazy with sleep, doesn’t know how to react. 

Dean’s warm hand comes to rest at his lower back. Fingers trailing goosebumps across the tiny strip of skin that’s peeking out from over his boxers. 

“Dean?” He whispers, voice heavy with uncertainty but he can’t deny that he wants this. Even if he doesn’t entirely understand what this is. 

His cheeks are burning hot as he hesitantly rocks forward, his hips grazing Dean’s un-injured thigh and he squeezes his eyes closed and does it again. And again. And again. 

It doesn’t take long before his dick is dripping, soaking through the threadbare pair of boxers he’s wearing and he can’t stop the little half broken sobs from escaping his trembling lips. 

Dean’s hand fists in Sam’s grey t-shirt urging him closer, simultaneously rucking his shirt up in the process. Sam shifts, trying to get better situated, and sucks in a suprised gasp as his hard prick drags against his brother’s. 

“Yeah, Sammy. That’s it.” Dean says encouraging him, pulling him even closer. “Feels good baby brother. Keep going.” 

“Brother.” That word sounds dirty givin the context of what they’re doing and it should feel wrong as hell but it doesn’t. Dean’s words only seem to fuel Sam on, his small hips picking up speed and the friction is great but it’s not enough. 

“Dean.” He calls out but he’s not sure what he’s asking for just that he needs something more.“ Dean seems to understand completely and pushes Sam’s boxers down, quickly following suit with his own and brings their hard lengths together. 

The skin to skin contact is a shock to Sam’s system, and his toes curl and the grip he has against his brother’s bicep tightens. 

Dean has his hand wrapped around both of their lengths, slow drag up circling the head and then back down again, their shared precome slicking the way. 

"Kiss me Sammy .” He urges and his brother complies crashing their lips together with awkard grace. It’s messy and uncoordinated but it’s perfect because it’s Sam and Dean thinks that he could die right now with the taste of Sam’s lips on his tongue and not have a single regret. 

Sam’s balls pull up tight, spine tingling with the sudden rush of his orgasm. He tucks his head into the hollow of Dean’s throat and shutters as he paints his brother’s belly in white. 

At the First hot splash of Sam’s come against his throbbing dick, he’s joining his brother over the edge. Both sweating and panting, each other’s name on their swollen, spit-slicked lips. 

  
It’s quiet in the shared space between them, and neither of them speak for several minutes unsure how to start a conversation after what they just did. 

“I didn’t hurt your leg did I? Sam asks a little cautious. Waiting for Dean to freak out any minute now

"No Sam, you didn’t hurt me.” He says as he slowly adjusts himself into a sitting up position. 

“Not gonna freak out Sammy.” Dean says, somehow reading his brother’s mind. “But I do need to ask if… I mean, you didn’t feel forced into that did you? Cause if you did,” he begins but Sam stops him before he can finish that train of though and scoots up close so he can look into his brother’s tear-filled eyes. 

“No Dean. I didn’t feel forced. I wanted to do it. If I’m being honest, I wanna do it again.” He says and hides his eyes feeling suddenly embarrassed. 

“You mean that?” Dean asks. “You really want this Sam…. You want me?” 

“Yeah” He says on a whisper and tentatively lowers his lips to Dean’s. It’s just a peck really, whisper-soft against Deans mouth but it’s the emotion behind it, the love that pours out from Sam with the small, simple gesture and it’s ridiculous but Dean already knows he’s never gonna get enough of this. 

“No take backs Sammy.” Dean breathes into his brother’s mouth and swallows up a moan that crawls it’s way up Sam’s throat. 

“No take backs.” His brother promises.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yadi this chapter is for you. I hope you like it. (Happy thanksgiving darlin'.)

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning Sam wakes up to find the bed empty, and his first instinct is to panic.

"Dean?" He calls out but recieves no answer. 

He throws the blankets off and jumps out of bed but falls flat on his face thanks to the covers that have somehow wrapped themselves around his feet. 

"Sammy?" His brother says appearing in the doorway. "Why are you in the floor?" But he doesn't bother answering. 

"Why are you up and moving around?" He asks instead, trying to disentangle himself. "You're supposed to be taking it easy." 

Dean waves Sam's concern away like he didn't almost bleed to death just two days ago and that's typical big brother behavior. It is, but that doesn't mean it doesn't annoy the hell out of him. 

"You gotta quit worrying so much Sam." His brother replies and limps out of the room. 

"Hey! Where are you going?" He calls out, practically running after his brother.

"To the bathroom." Dean answers. "I've gotta piss like a Russian race horse." 

"Oh." Sam stops, coming up behind him. "Do you, uh. Do you need any help?" He asks a bit embarrassed. 

"Sammy, you kinky bastard." He laughs which gets a rise out of his brother.

"Oh my God Dean. That's not what I meant." He stammers, face turning a shade of red that Dean's never seen before. 

"Relax," he laughs. "I'm just giving you a hard time. But," he adds, ruffling his kid-brother's hair, "if I need you, I'll holler." 

"Okay." Sam says even though he doesn't like the idea of him going off alone. "I'll make us some breakfast." 

 

Bobby's kitchen is fully stocked and he's found himself in a rare situation. There's so much food, he can't decide what to fix. After rummaging for a minute he decides on biscuits and gravy and grabs a pack of bacon out of the freezer and gets to work. 

His brother smiles at him, eyes bright and happier than he's ever seen him as he shuffles around the kitchen, and prepares their food.

Dean scarfs his plate down in record time, and licks the grease off his fingers with gusto. He looks over at Sam who's red-cheeked and trying to hide his face beneath his shaggy bangs. 

"I ever tell you how cute you are when you blush sammy?" Dean asks knowing damn well he's never said anything of the sort. "Whatcha thinking about?" He prods, tongue licking his lips obsenely and Sam has to press the heel of his palm against the tent in his pants. And, since the universe hated him, that was the exact moment thier father and Bobby decided to walk through the door. 

 

He sits there awkardly for a few minutes before inching out from under the large oak table and joins everyone in the living room. 

"How's the leg?" John asks his oldest and it seems sincere enough but it makes the anger and desperation from that night swell inside Sam's chest. 

"It's fine." He answers for him. No thanks to you." And glares at John, eyes daring their father to deny it. 

"You watch your tone with me boy." John snaps back. 

"That's enough Sam." Dean interrupts trying to diffuse the argument before it has the chance to escalate.

Sam looks at Dean, eyes filling with tears but he won't let them fall, he won't. 

"You're gonna take his side?" He whispers voice so low he might not have said them outloud at all. 

Dean won't look at him and that hurts more than he cares to admit at the moment. It isn't until after he's ran up the steps and slammed the bedroom door behind him, that Dean realises what he's done. 

Sam has no idea what time it is or how long he's been holed up in Bobby's guest room but the light from outside the window tells him it's late in the evening. A knock at the door distracts him from his thoughts and he pushes off the bed and opens the door. 

"I brought you a plate." His uncle says sympathetically. "I figured you were hungry."

"Thanks Bobby." He replies taking the plate and walking back over to the bed. "I'm sorry about all that." He adds as he pushes some peas around on his plate with a fork. 

"No need to apologize boy. You're dad's a good guy but that don't mean I always agree with his priorities." 

Sam smiles back at that. "Thanks." He says again.… At least someone in this house has his back. 

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

He must have cried himself to sleep because the next time he opens his eyes the room is completely submerged in darkness. He rubs his eyes, still foggy with sleep, and goes to roll over when he feels the solid weight of someone at his side. 

"Dean?" He questions. "Is that you?" 

"Yeah, Sammy. It's me." He hears him sigh. 

It's quiet. Too quiet as they lay there, their shared breathes the only sound in small room. 

"Listen Sam." His brother starts. 

"Wait." Sam interjects. "How did you get upstairs?" 

"I walked." He replies like the answer to that question should be pretty obvious. 

"By yourself? Dean you could have tore your stitches." 

His brother rolls over gently, body turned towards Sam and stares into those big kaleidoscope eyes. 

 

"You mad at me?" Sam asks which gets a suprised reaction out of Dean. 

"No.…You mad at me?" He asks back. 

Even in the dark room his eyes have adjusted enough to make out his brother's face. See the amulet hanging low on his chest and he reaches out and wraps his hand around it. He holds it for a minute and stares into Dean's eyes. 

"I was." He answers truthfully. "But mostly I'm just sad." 

Dean's hand comes to rest on his, fingers warm as they intertwine with his. 

"I'm sorry Sam." I just didn't want you and dad to argue. Seems like all you guys do anymore."

"I know." He agrees. "I'm sorry too Dean. I just hate that he puts this job in front of you, in front of us." 

Dean lowers his head and presses his lips against his brother's forehead. 

"You still love me?" He asks only half serious  
And Sam playfully smacks his arm. "Of course I do." He answers. 

"You still want me?" He questions and Sam can tell he's really asking although how the hell he doesn't know Dean's his whole world is beyond him." 

"I've never wanted anything more." Sam whispers and is pleasantly rewarded when those soft, pink lips he loves so much, come to rest against his. 

The kiss is soft, sweet, just bordering on not being a kiss at all but the edges of it sharpen suddenly. Growing with a desperation that is new and unfamiliar to Sam. He opens to Dean, feels his brother's tongue slide against his, in this delicious, daring way he's only ever dreamed about. 

They both pull away but only when their lungs start screaming with the need for air. 

Eyes still focused on each other, hands still intertwined. 

"You think you can be quiet?" Dean says voice so low Sam can barely hear him. 

"Yeah." He shakes his head, insides quivering with anticipation at whatever his big brother has in mind. 

"Roll over." Dean instructs, goosebumps breaking over Sam's skin even though his brother hasn't even touched him yet and he's gone...so far gone for Dean. 

His brother's fingers are like liquid fire, scorching Sam everywhere they touch. Fingertips doing this slow trail down Sam's stomach that have it feeling like it's flipped upside down. It's the most delicious torture he's ever experienced. 

Dean pushes Sam's sleep pants down, his own following suit a few seconds later and the heat from his brother's body seems almost too much to bear as he presses up close, his simi-hard prick sliding hot and heavy against Sam's ass. 

"God little brother, you feel good." Dean breathes into his ear and rocks up against him, smearing precome all over Sam's smooth skin.

He thrust back against him and almost curses as the tip of Dean's dick slides between his cheeks and presses up against his hole. 

His hand squeezes his cock in an attempt to stave off his orgasm as Dean pulls back and pushes forward, a little faster, a little harder this time. Sam arches back slow, pushing his ass out seeking more. 

With one hand on his dick, wrist moving in a slow delicious rhythm, and the other resting on his thigh, he pulls his ass cheeks apart allowing Dean more room to move. 

 

"Fuck Sammy." Dean huffs against his ear and it sounds like he's crying but he keeps thrusting harder and harder till hes rubbing against Sam's hole with every pass. 

"Dean, put it in me." He begs not caring that he's no where near ready for something like that, He needs it. 

"I want to Sammy." Dean pants. "But I don't wanna hurt you." 

"You won't." He promises, so desperate for it he can't think straight. "Just the tip Dean, please!" And although he's not proud of himself for begging it's not enough to make him stop. 

Dean swallows hard and tries to steady his hand as he wraps it around his rock hard dick and pushes against his brother's furled hole. The moment he barely breaches it Sam let's out a filthy moan that Dean has to swallow up with his mouth. 

Dean has a death grip on Sam's slender waist as he swivels his hips, just barely rocking in and out of his brother but it's enough to send them both over the edge; their orgasms tearing through them with a ferocity neither of them has experienced before. He milks his dick, filling his brother's hole with every drop of come he has, and falls against Sam, heart beating wildly inside his chest. 

"That was amazing Sammy." Dean huffs and litters wet kisses across his neck. "Love you so much baby." 

It sounds like a confession, the way Dean says those words and Sam commits them to memory. His brother's arms wrap around him tighter and pull him so close he can feel Dean's heart beating against his back . He cranes his neck, head turned at an odd angle but it's perfect and kisses Dean again before closing his eyes. 

"I love you too Dean." He says, and adds quietly to himself…. "More than you will ever know."


End file.
